It's The Way It Should Be
by Quaxo
Summary: Surprisingly, this is a Draco/Herm romance. But it DOESN'T end happy, it ends sort of odd... well, tragic, well maybe not. I don't know really anyway. This fic was well.. odd and demanded to be written. Bah, listen to me! Just Read IT!


Author's Blither-blather-anti-matter: I don't own the characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. I ALSO don't own the song 'Monotone'. THAT belongs to Splender, and they're AWESOME! Also, I borrowed some lyrics (used in the characters thoughts etc.) from their other songs, 'I Think God Can Explain' and 'I Appologize'. All of their songs can be checked out on their CD, 'Halfway Down the Sky,', by Columbia Records.  
  
Hah! This is a record for me! I wrote this in about an hour and a half... probably less. This was just something that popped into my head.  
  
It's The Way It Should Be,  
by Quaxo  
  
iRoll over Monotone,  
pI've got somethin to say to you  
p I can't speak in stereo,  
pAnd I don't want you to be confused.../i  
  
Hermoine sighed as she saw Draco pass the Library window, alone this time, without his goons, Goyle and Crabbe. She'd sat her about a week, after classes, and she'd seen him pass several times without his 'friends', so to speak. Sometimes he would just sit on the bench outside the window, reading a textbook or scribbling notes on paper, othertimes he'd just pass the window, which was in the main hall leading down to Slytherin's tower enterance.  
  
She didn't know what had happened to her that drove her suddenly to be posessed by the urge to find out what exactly was his problem. Despite Ron and Harry's thoughts that, 'He's just a git, plain and simple. His father's a git, he's a git, that's all.' she didn't think she could believe that.  
  
He struck her as sort of a 'tragic' person. She shuddered as she thought of his father and his mother. They didn't look like the loving OR the approving types, not to mention the fact that they were two racist dogs. She held back slightly, she didn't KNOW Narcissa was anti-Muggle... but if she'd married Lucius Malfoy, she undoubtably was.  
  
Draco always acted so proud of them... but even that seemed a little phony... a little TOO enthusiastic. Anyway, weren't most teens, especially boys, be starting to rebel against their parents about now? She remembered she'd had a doozy or two of an arguement with her parents over the summer.  
  
She shook her head and pulled out her journal (She despised the word 'diary'), and opened it to the page after the latest entry, dipped her quill in it's ink, and began to write.  
  
bDear Journal,  
  
I saw Draco pass in the halls today, again he was without his thugs. The more and more I look at him, the more and more I think how horrible his life at home must be, and how much of his hatred for me, Harry, Ron, muggles and muggle-borns must be from the years he's been taught it at home. How can you ignore something your parents have taught you since you were in your mother's uterus practically?  
  
As I've said before, I think Lucius and Narissa Malfoy are horrible people. It doesn't surprise me that Draco has turned out the way he has. I think he could be a lot worse, considering. I pity him greatly, I mean, his father's an ass (pardon my French), his mother doesn't look like she wants to touch, let alone look at him. I just feel so sorry for him, he's been set on the wrong path since birth.  
  
He's like a trainwreck, you can see it happening, and you can't pull your eyes away from it./b  
  
Hermoine sighed, and closed her journal. She began to pack up her books, since it was almost dinner, and she would prefer to drop these off in her dorm, than haul them to dinner.  
  
On her way through the hall, she slammed directly into the two goons who didn't share a brain between them. Crabbe and Goyle. She gave a loud 'umph' of air as she tumbled backwards, head over heels her bag dumping her books as she went.  
  
She scowled mightily at their stupid faces as she began to collect her books as they guffawed loudly. With a strangled scream of frustration, she stormed off.  
  
"Hey..." Goyle snorted, still laughing at Hermoine's fall, as he picked up a book with his big sweaty hands. He flipped it open and saw the heading. "It's her diary!"  
  
"Let's show it to Draco, he should get some kicks out of it."  
  
iThere's no need to analyze,  
pNo need to form an affliction.  
pYou're so bored and paralyzed,  
pAs you're making another excuse./i  
  
Draco frowned slightly as he slowly read each page of that, he shivered, mudblood's diary. He reminded himself to scrub his hands furiously after reading this.  
  
He thought that these entries would be about petty personal things. Like embarrassing things that had happened, that he hadn't had the glory of seeing, or if she'd secretly failed a class, or who she had a crush on, but couldn't tell. But it was about none of these.   
  
It was about him. Almost all about him.  
  
Right now he was glad he'd dismissed Crabbe and Goyle, his faithful stupid lackeys, from his prescence. They'd be begging like hounds for anything interesting right now if he hadn't.   
  
Many emotions exploded through his mind all at once as he finished the last entry. Hate, anger, and... in the bottom of his gut, the smallest inkling of admiration. Some who'd 'cracked' his code, it filled him with fury also. He shook his head. This couldn't be allowed for chrissake! He'd be dead! He hated her! With his heart and soul!  
  
Or did he?, a niggling voice added into his mind.   
  
He gave a sharp yank to his hair to clear his treacherous thoughts. He needed to focus on what he was going to do in this situation.  
  
iI can't handle it, I'm intolerant. I rip off my shirt and I deal with it. I won't throw a fit, I don't give a shit. I fall flat on my face in the back of this one./i Draco repeated steadily in his mind, as he stared at the next page, completely blank.  
  
He reached into his chest of drawers and pulled out his quill and ink absently. Biting his lip, he dipped the tip into the ink.  
  
bListen Beaver Wench, you're wrong about me. My heart is pure and clear, pure evil that is. So stay the hell away from me bitch, quit writing about me. I hate you. You don't know me, and I DON'T want you to. If you ever to give your sympathy to me in public, you won't live long enough to regret it.   
  
If this is some sick way of you trying to get me to start LIKING you, forget it. You're ugly, you're too smart for your own damn good, and you conjure up images of slashed wrists at the mere mention of a relationship with you. They're MY slit wrists, lengthwise, to the elbow, if you didn't know.  
  
I don't see how stupid you could be, to even THINK I was good. You're nuts, Beaver Wench (And unlike your idiotic friends, I noticed immediately that you changed your teeth were changed. I guess my opinion really DOES matter to you.), plain nuts.   
  
I won't talk about this little farce of yours to anyone, as long as you oblige to do the same./b  
  
Draco signed it, his face red with fury as he finished. He dusted it quickly, so it wouldn't smudge, then snapped it shut. He looked to the clock, which told him it was time for dinner. He marched down the hall, and into the dining hall, he'd give this to her there, instead of risking giving to her via messenger, and having the find out.  
  
iCollect me Monotone,  
p'Cuz I think I'm fallen to pieces.  
pI'm so strange you should have known.  
pWhile I lick all the salt off of these wounds./i  
  
Harry blinked as he saw something he swore he'd never see standing infront of him at Gryffindor table. Draco Malfoy. A very peeved Draco Malfoy at that.  
  
Ron was immediately snarling, but his mouth was full of steak, so it prevented him from saying anything.  
  
"What do you want Malfoy." Harry said flatly.  
  
"Nothing with you." Draco sneered. His eyes fixed on Hermoine, who'd frozen in mid-bite of a chunk of potato. "This is yours." He spat, before throwing a book down at her plate.   
  
Hermoine's face instantly paled, and a sick look came across her face. She grabbed the diary.  
  
"Did you read it?" She asked in a strangled voice.  
  
"Of course, you stupid mudblood. Now I want you to read my response." He hissed, his arms crossing over his chest, and legs spreading apart, taking a defiant posture.  
  
Hermoine desperately flipped through to the latest entry, and read it, her face becoming even whiter, and tears glittering in her cinnoman eyes. She looked up at Draco pitifully. Draco's eyes merely flashed menacingly.  
  
Hermoine sniffed, before tearing away, clutching the journal desperately to her chest, tears slipping down her cheeks. Draco snorted, before heading over to Slytherin table.  
  
Hermoine tried to prevent the sobs that were beginning to rip themselves from her throat.  
  
How could he? How could he just look at her so coldly, and say such things about her, when he read how she felt about him? Didn't he have the least amount of pity or mercy?  
  
She threw herself into a dark corner, huddling within it's sheltering depths. Taking a shallow breath, she closed her eyes.  
  
"It's alright, I'm okay. I think God can explain. I believe I'm the same, I get carried away. It's alright, I'm okay. I think God can explain. I'm relieved, I'm relaxed, I'll get over it yet. I'm so much better than you guessed. I'm so much bigger than you guessed. I'm so much brighter than you guessed..." she muttered to herself, the words spilling out of her mouth with no control. Bitterness bit into her heart, sucking any sympathy for that *bastard* out of her heart, as a jilted lover.  
  
She sucked in a deep calming breath, her tears drying on their own. She stood, and returned to Dining hall, as if nothing had happened.  
  
iI'm can't handle it, I'm intolerant.  
pI rip off my shirt and I deal with it.  
pI won't throw a fit, I don't give a shit.  
pI fall flat on my flace in the back for this one.  
pI'm hating myself for I want nothing more.  
pWe have such a strange design./i  
  
Draco sat in the common room, staring at the fire burning brightly before him in the saftey of his common room. He hadn't had any stomach to eat tonight, so instead retired to Slytherin, alone with his thoughts.  
  
He'd made a mistake... and then he didn't. He shook his head. As soon as Hermoine (Oh god, he was referring to her by her FIRST name...) had run out of the room, in tears, a sinking feeling over took him... like he was drowning.  
  
But it hadn't been a mistake. She'd be much happier with some idiot like Weasley or Potter. Some dope, who could handle her.  
  
Still, the guilt was curdling his guts at the fact he'd made her cry. He'd never made her cry. Never. That was a surprise.  
  
But it was past, and it was going to stay in the past. It was the way it should be.  
  
"For rain that's fallen halfway down the sky, I appologize. For sunlight burning holes into your eyes, I appologize. You float like an angel, but then I wipe your cloud, and I throw you out." He sighed drearily, before opening his Charms textbook, he had a test to study for. 


End file.
